


just a taste

by salacious



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: "Natalie Rousseau" and "Steven Grant", Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Memory Loss, Mostly A Disclaimer Cause I Cant Write Canon, Out of Character, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sort Of, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salacious/pseuds/salacious
Summary: "When I look at you, I remember remnants of our past and I can't help but want to have just a taste.A taste of your smile, of your happiness, of your laughter and your lips.Because if I cannot have what we could have built, I'd settle withjust a tasteof you."~*~He’s at a stoplight when he gets the alert on his phone.Agent Romanoff…presumed dead.She can’t be dead. She can’t. She wasjustwith him three weeks ago.He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive back to SHIELD. He just knows that people are thankfully staying out of his goddamn way and that he nearly kicks down Fury’s door when it doesn’t open fast enough.Fury quickly stands up from his chair, holding his hands up to try and stop the onslaught of pure anger that is emanating from Steve. “Calm down, Captain. She’s not dead, but we have a situation.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 40
Kudos: 133





	1. ...of goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am again, attempting an MCU-canon fic. it is canon divergence, though, because it happens before the events in TWS and i may or may not write out what happened in TWS through the lens of this 'verse. like, if i decide to write what happened in TWS, we'll see how it would have turned out had SteveNat been in a relationship. but i have to get through this first, lmao
> 
> i needed a break from my other fic, i messed up and needed to let creativity run through my brain again before attempting to fix my messes. i planned out what happens in "just a taste" to the point i know it'll have 15 parts, though, so i have a good feeling about it.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> usual disclaimers: ooc stevenat, eventual smut & angst with a happy ending because that's what they deserve.

Natasha had a big problem

A huge fucking problem, really.

It was six feet tall, with blond hair and sky-blue eyes that sometimes looked at her how she imagined sailors looked at a beacon of light amidst a storm.

It also had broad shoulders and a waist that she had unashamedly stared at longer than necessary.

That problem was Steve freakin’ Rogers.

And, the worst part of it all was that he was completely oblivious to the effect that he had on her. Well, she couldn’t really blame him for that, she hid her attraction to him pretty damn well, but that still didn’t mean that he didn’t drive her crazy.

Nick had assigned him as her partner about six months ago and they had spent a pretty good deal of time together. Before they were partners at SHIELD, Nick asked her to introduce him into the new century and that’s where her problems began.

At first, Clint was there and he was a good buffer for the feelings that were beginning to bubble it he back of her mind. He made stupid jokes and was able to get Steve to open up in a way that she wasn’t sure she ever could.

She was _good_ at what she did, she could do _anything_ , but when it came to Steve Rogers…well, she wasn’t so good.

And _that_ was the problem.

Under her composed face and witty remarks, she would blush like a little schoolgirl with a crush, and she was thankful for everything above, that Steve was too fucking oblivious to notice that she’d stare just a little longer than she needed to.

At least she knew that the attraction wasn’t one-sided. On multiple occasions, she had noticed the way Steve’s gaze darkened and flickered over her body. There was a particular instance at SHIELD HQ that she’s ashamed to admit she…touched herself to.

They had returned from a three-week-long op where they had been holed up in a little shitty cabin with freezing cold water, so when they arrived at SHIELD, they rushed to the communal showers and enjoyed the free hot water.

She was too tired to drive home smelling like gunpowder and blood that wasn’t hers.

Natasha had gone in first, she had her back turned to the other showers and stood under the hot splash of water, letting it run over her and slowly relax her muscles. When she opened her eyes, Steve was a few showers down, beside her.

His back was to hers, his hands pressed against the white tiled walls as he let the water run over his hair. His eyes were closed and from the tense look of his back, she could tell that he hadn’t fully gotten rid of the adrenaline that must’ve been pumping through him.

A side effect of the serum, he said, was that if he didn’t use most of the energy he conserved for a mission, he’d be left with excess vigour and it would make it nearly impossible for him to sleep or relax.

Natasha watched as a single droplet of water slid from the nape of his neck down the curves of his muscled back, over the planes between his shoulder blades and ended its journey on the dip of his hips.

She managed to look away before he realised that she was downright ogling him, but whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see were his hands pinning her to the wall and having his wicked way with hers.

That would never happen, of course, but ultimately, Natasha was a woman made of flesh and bones and man, was her flesh weak when it came to him.

When she made it home that night, her hand cramped between her legs from the number of times she thought of Steve in that shower.

Sometimes she felt guilty; having fantasies about someone as good as Steve should have been sin, but then she’d notice the way his eyes would linger on her cleavage when she would put on the catsuit or how hard he’d swallow when she pressed her body just a little _too_ close to his.

Natasha wasn’t _stupid_. She knew when men found her attractive; playing men was practically one of her superpowers and in order to play them, she had to _know_ them, recognise when their pupils dilated and when their breathing quickened – all the signs of lust.

And Steve Rogers wasn’t all that great at hiding his emotions when she was around.

If that wasn’t proof enough, the hard bulge that would press to her back when they sparred was tell-tale enough.

So, sure, she knew that Steve was attracted to her, but that was something she would never act on. No matter how badly she wanted him, no matter how flustered she became, no matter how many pairs of underwear she’d ruin – she’d never tell Steve what he made her feel.

She knew that what she could offer wasn’t something he could accept.

Because someone like Natasha could only offer a night of unadulterated passion. Nothing more, and though Steve may accept her conditions at first, she knew that eventually, emotions would cloud his judgement and she’d have to put in for a new partner.

And Natasha _really_ didn’t want to put in for a new partner.

She liked Steve (platonically) and she trusted him with her life. Their relationship was a little different than what she had with Clint. Sure, she trusted Clint with everything, but she saw him as a brother.

Steve was…he was the forbidden fruit she _really_ wanted to taste, and she didn’t really consider herself to be religious, but there was an entire religious book that warned her on all the reasons she shouldn’t even have a bite.

At the visual of biting Steve, Natasha feels a shiver run along her spine and she bites her bottom lip as she stands in front of Steve’s door. She has to calm her hormones down before seeing him for what may as well be the last time in a very long time.

Nick gave her an undercover assignment that didn’t really have an end date, which meant that they’d be parting ways for an indefinite amount of time – and she kind of hated to admit it, but she was really going to miss him.

Naturally, she brought take out from their favourite Chinese food joint and sat in her car for a few moments, contemplating all the reasons why she should ignore the nerves in the pit of her stomach – she was worried, and for all the wrong reasons.

So _what_ if Steve didn’t like her blonde hair? It’s not like it mattered what he thought!

It’s not like hair didn’t grow back and she’d be able to go back to a redhead.

It shouldn’t matter to her what Steve thought about her freaking hair, but there she was, nervous, outside his door because she didn’t want him to _not_ like her new look.

Natasha didn’t know how long the mission would be, so it would be easier to completely change her look rather than just wearing a wig. The mission was easy, but it would take long – being Natalie Rushman had nearly taken an entire year, and before Steve, she was used to being gone from her apartment for long periods of time.

But now?

She had been spending too much time with him, making too many attachments to him to not miss him.

 _That’s_ why she was breaking her usual protocol of not doing anything before a big mission. Before Steve, she would have been in her apartment, making sure to study her cover and memorise little details that would help her sell her image better.

Now?

Well…

She takes a deep breath and knocks on his door once. She was wearing a hoodie, trying to cover her hair from onlookers (undercover missions required her to be extra discreet and there was a reason she had protocols in place. Clearly those protocols didn’t seem to apply when it came to Steve,) and a pair of dark yoga pants.

The good thing about spending time with Steve was that he had seen her ranging from glamourous babe to slob and she hated that she loved how he’d still look at her appreciatively, like she was a piece of art in a museum to be admired.

He opened the door a few moments later, with an easy smile that she quickly learned was reserved just for her.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He let her walk in and she set the food down on the counter. “Got the works.” She pulled out two large plates of fried rice for him and began to distribute the food out. She set down the egg rolls while he got their drinks from the fridge.

Once she was done, she helped him take the food to the coffee table in front of the TV and pushed her hoodie back. The entire time she had been dealing with the food, she kept fighting with herself, telling herself it was stupid to be so nervous about something so trivial until she finally just managed to yank the hood back and reveal the long blonde curls.

Gina down at the wardrobe floor (yes, SHIELD had an entire wardrobe department for missions like these that included licensed beauticians) had really outdone herself. She had bleached her red hair, but by some miracle managed to cause minimal damage; nearly unnoticeable.

And, Natasha was grateful that her hair wasn’t burnt out or discoloured in areas (something that she had done to herself the very first time she ever coloured her hair, and the reason she preferred wigs) but she really missed the red.

At least she didn’t look washed out and Gina added a few warm tones to complete the whole look, but…

“Wow,” Steve breathed, eyes wide as he stared at the obvious change.

No matter how well the Red Room had trained her to hide emotions, she couldn’t hide the faint blush she felt creeping up her cheeks.

Natasha laughed it off, turning to him with a smirk. “What?”

He blinked, still stunned. “Your hair…”

Maybe Natasha was imagining things, but she’s sure she heard a hint of disappointment somewhere in there.

Of course, he hated it.

“It’s,” he cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair (something she learned he did when he was flustered) “you, uh, you look good.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in a shy smirk. “Good, eh?”

Steve nodded, still looking at her like he was trying to absorb it all. “It’s different,” he paused, eyes glued to a loose curl that was framing the side of her face, “I like it.” His gaze went from surprised to something softer, familiar. “You pull any colour off, Romanoff.”

“That,” she grinned, trying to hide the obvious relief she felt at his acceptance, “is the absolute truth, soldier.”

He waited a few more seconds, still looking at her, before he asked her why she did it. He couldn’t stop looking at her as she explained and she kept telling herself that it was nothing.

“It’s for a mission,” she reached for her chopsticks and twirled a few noodles of her lo-mein around them, “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so…” she shrugged, letting her silence explain the rest.

“Mm,” he frowned momentarily, looking down at his plate.

She licked her bottom lip, chewing and then turned to him. “What?”

“This is a solo-mission?” She nodded and ignored the way her stomach flipped when his jaw ticked in slight annoyance. “Fury didn’t want me coming with?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, not able to hide the grin that grew on her face. “It’ll be easy, Steve. I’ll just be working in the accounting team. I need to get my hands on the finances of the company to see where the money is headed.”

“Can’t you just,” he murmured, stabbing a piece of his chicken, “hack it or something?”

She let her head fall back as she laughed. His frowned melted a little into a softer smile. “No, Steve. I can’t hack everything. Well,” she corrected herself with a sly smirk, “I _can_ , but not this. Maria and I looked into it and he’s keeping these transactions on paper.”

“Makes sense,” he sighed, dropping his shoulders, “easier to hide.”

“Mhm,” she nodded, reaching down to grab a noodle that curled around her chin.

Steve grinned, watching as she reached for a napkin to wipe away the soy sauce and she flipped him off. He was quiet for a few more moments, staring at the TV screen as she scrolled through the movies.

They had nearly seen them all and even binged-watched shows, but she didn’t mind seeing repeats if it meant spending time with him.

“Will you, uh,” he looked down at his plate, blushing a little, “will you be able to keep in contact?”

Natasha smiled sadly and shook her head. He knew the protocol, knew that they wouldn’t be able to talk, but she still loved that he asked. “Can’t.”

He nodded. “Figured.” His shoulders drop as he lets out a quiet sigh and she scoots closer to him, nudging him with her shoulder.

“What about _Die Hard_?”

They finished their food while the movie played. She would place some of her spicy chicken on his plate and pick some of his garlic chicken, all while grinning at him sweetly. He always huffed, but the smile on his face gave him away.

He had bought a strawberry cheesecake for them to share and Natasha tried to ignore the way her body reacted to a low moan that escaped his lips when he had the first bite. It really was delicious, but she was sure it would taste better if it came from his-

No. She was _not_ about to let herself get flustered right before leaving.

The rest of the night was spent laughing as they talked about how impossible it was to fall from a moving car and not have any bruises. Well, Steve smirked and said _he’d_ be unscathed, but then Natasha mocked him under her breath and flipped him off and he was laughing in that stupid way that made his entire frame shake and she smiled at him fondly.

Yeah, she’d really miss him.

See, Steve Rogers laughed in this sweet way that she couldn’t help but savour. It wasn’t really _sweet_ , but it was contagious and she loved seeing the way his eyes crinkled at the sides and how deep his voice went when he’d try to talk and recover.

Making him laugh and _hearing_ him laugh was definitely one of her favourite things.

When the time to leave came creeping up on her, she felt a little sad but forced herself to smile and tell him that it would be over soon. That she’d be back in time for their Halloween movies marathon and the sweet smile that he gave her all but melted her.

“It looks good on you,” he spoke up as she turned to leave.

“Mm?” She frowned, letting her hand fall from the doorknob.

A faint blush grew on his cheeks and he reached up to lightly touch her hair. “The blonde. It makes you…” he trailed off and shook his head, stopping himself from saying whatever he wanted to, “it looks good.”

She laughed and reached up subconsciously. “Then why do you keep looking at it like you’re mourning my red hair?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes at her. “I miss the red,” he shrugged an arm, sliding his hands in his jean pockets, “but this isn’t bad.”

“It’ll grow back.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him, but he didn’t comment on it.

Natasha took a few steps closer to him and stood on her tiptoes. If this was the last time she’d see him in a while, she’d want to make sure she’d give him something to remember her by.

Her hand snaked up around the nape of his neck and she pulled him down. She felt him tense a bit under her touch, but just as soon, he melted under her touch and leaned down closer to her.

For a split second, she considered kissing him right on his mouth. She wondered if he’d still taste like the strawberry cheesecake and if he’d return the kiss, if maybe he’d pin her to the wall and kiss her as if they invented it.

But she wasn’t _that_ bold.

So, she settled for a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and lingered her lips to his skin for a little longer than what was necessary.

She seemed to do that a lot.

Stare at him longer than what was necessary, break protocols, _miss_ him.

She really needed to get laid because if she didn’t know any better, she’d start believing that she had a _crush_ on Steve freakin’ Rogers.

“Have a good night, Steve.”

He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together for a few seconds and then let her hand fall. “Be safe.”

Her heart stammered a bit at the underlying emotions crossing over his eyes, but she ignored them.

Being with him was a line that she could never cross. It was better that way, _safer_ – for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the length of chapters will vary, some will be longer than others, but i've split them up that way for the sake of storytelling and my sanity. anyway, hope you enjoyed xx


	2. ...of worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a text that turns him into his usual-reckless self, only to be told that Natasha isn't dead. He doesn't know what's worse; the text or what Fury tells him next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did mention that i can't write canon right? that my stevenat is OOC? okay, cool, 'cause this chapter really shows that.
> 
> the VR bit mentioned at the end of the chapter was totally influenced by Altered Carbon (i refuse to think about how it was cancelled) anyway! hope y'all enjoy! xx

Steve had been – for lack of a better word, cranky as all hell.

He spent the majority of his day sitting in for some self-defence classes, observing the instructors and giving his not-really-asked-for input and the rest of the afternoon filling out paperwork on his last mission with the STRIKE team.

Rollins’ headpiece lost connection and they had to fight in the dark for the rest of the operation – which wouldn’t have been bad had they not been ambushed by the team he was supposed to take care of.

What was meant to be an easy, clean mission turned into a pile of paperwork for Steve where he had to explain to the S.H.I.E.L.D. counsel why things progressed the way they did and why he wasn’t able to gather the data info that they needed.

Which, quite frankly, was a waste of his fucking time, but it’s not like he had much to do.

So, after having lunch cooped up in his office, he spent the remainder of the day scribbling notes on the paperwork angrily.

Normally he didn’t let things piss him off this bad, and while he didn’t really want to admit it, he knew that missing a certain redhead was putting him on edge.

She had been gone for _three_ weeks or maybe it had been three years. (It had been three weeks but it might as well feel like three years so he’s allowed to be a little dramatic, okay?)

Part of him feels bad that the scowl on his face has become so pronounced that other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wouldn’t really approach him, but the other part didn’t really care.

He was worried about Natasha and not being able to check in on her had him feeling a little more irritated than usual. When he felt himself turning going into full asshole-mode, he took a few deep breaths and reminded himself that if anyone was capable of kicking ass, it was Natasha.

He knew that she could protect herself, that she was more than capable...but, he couldn’t help the worry that perturbed his thoughts.

It also didn’t help that her office was adjacent to his and _empty_ , and that every time he saw the dark room, he wanted to open the door and hoped to find her behind her desk, shooting him a sly little smile and inviting him to lunch.

He probably missed her the most today because Fridays were kind of _their_ unofficial day.

They’d eat lunch together, sit in her office in silence while they filled out stacks of paperwork and when they left, they’d head to his apartment and have dinner together while they watched Netflix.

And this was the third Friday that their routine wasn’t _routine_.

He could sit there and list all the reasons why getting attached to her was dangerous. After all, the work they did constantly put them in danger and while Steve didn’t blink once when it came to placing others safety above his, he knew that Natasha was the same.

No matter the number of times she mentioned the red in her ledger, Steve knew that she was a good person, knew that there was no one better to have as a partner than Natasha Romanoff.

Yet, knowing that they were both reckless idiots didn’t stop him from thinking about her constantly. It didn’t stop him from getting all warm at the thought of her smile or the sound of her laugh.

And how could he not?

Natasha Romanoff laughed and he swore that he found all the answers to life.

Natasha Romanoff smiled and his heart would skip a beat, his breath would catch.

She had him completely wrapped around her finger and Steve didn’t even think she knew.

He wasn’t sure when he started to notice all the little things.

How when she laughed, her eyes would crinkle at the sides and her nose would wrinkle a little. How when she was lost in thought, she’d bring her fingers up to her mouth and nibble on her nails absentmindedly – and how when she realised that she was biting her nails, she’d mutter under her breath about her chipped nail polish.

How she always smirked in the face of danger, but when she’d fall asleep on his couch, she’d furrow her brows and behind closed eyelids, her eyes flickered back and forth. How when he woke her from nightmares, she’d stare around the room frantically, fisting his shirt momentarily until she situated herself and then tried to deflect with a sardonic joke.

How when he told her she looked beautiful in the gold gown she wore for one of Tony’s parties, her cheeks turned a slight pink and she tried to ignore his praise by ushering him to a woman by the bar that kept eyeing him like he was the last piece of candy in the store.

Steve could really write an entire anthology on all the little things Natasha did that he engraved to memory, but he didn’t think there would be enough lifetimes to note them down.

He just knew that he’d never act on it – the unspoken and denied feelings. He didn’t think Natasha was interested in him in any way and he wasn’t exactly great at talking to women to find out.

Besides, he’d rather keep things the way they were. Having her as his work partner, the person he trusted most to watch his six than lose her over the petty arguments couples seemed to have.

It’s not like he really had any experience dating a colleague, but Steve wasn’t _stupid_. He knew the consequences that could come with crossing the line with someone that would come to share more than just an office space.

He’d rather have Natasha as his friend than lose her for letting his feelings get the best of him. It was better that way, anyway.

As he walked by her office, he smiled fondly to himself and tried his best to not take the anger home with him. He could hear her dulcet voice, teasing him about how his scowl just added a hundred more years to him and he immediately felt himself feel a little better.

 _Christ_.

Natasha Romanoff wasn’t even there and she had him completely wrapped around her fingers.

He squared his shoulders, but felt the anger roll away from him as he made his way to his Harley. There were a few SHIELD agents in the parking garage, discussing their plans for the beginning of the weekend and he shot them a quick smile, waving his hand their way before mounting his bike and pulling out of his parking spot.

Natasha used to make fun of him, used to tell him that he should get something more modern and comfortable if he wanted to score any dates, but he also noticed how tightly she’d grip his waist and how close she pressed her body to his.

He loved driving them around, loved how she’d start by closing her fingers around the loops of his belt to keep steady and then slowly moved her arms around his waist. He loved how she moved her body in tandem with his, easing into the turns and how he could feel the stress melt away from her as they sped along the backroads.

Steve lets a pedestrian cross the road, slowing down his speed to enjoy the cruise of the ride back home. He didn’t have to speed, there was nothing really waiting for him except frozen pizza and a stack of books he had been meaning to read for the past two months.

He feels his phone buzzing in his back pocket continuously and he ignores it for the past two streets he drives by. It kept vibrating, which meant that it wasn’t a text and the spaced-out buzzing told him it wasn’t a call.

It looks to be an automated-SHIELD alert.

He waits until he’s at the stoplight to read the alert on his phone.

_Agent Romanoff…presumed dead._

There’s more information on the message, but Steve suddenly can’t think straight, can’t _read;_ he doesn’t bother reading the rest because his brain suddenly isn’t responding.

His heart nearly crawls out of his throat. His chest tightened, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough oxygen to flow through his lungs and maybe that’s why his vision is suddenly so goddamned blurry.

Steve takes a left turn, ignoring the cacophony of horns that follow his illegal U-Turn and he’s speeding back to SHIELD with his heart pounding in his chest like it wants to run out of his body. He can barely see the road; his vision is blurry and, goddamn, he feels like he’s drowning.

_She can’t be dead._

_She can’t._

_She was **just** with him three weeks ago. _

Suddenly Steve remembers all the prayers his ma taught him, he suddenly feels more religious than he has ever felt in his life and he’s praying to God and to any god that will listen – begging them to not take her from him.

He feels a myriad of emotions and the most prominent of them all is anger. He’s fucking furious, ready to use all of his strength to get answers, to figure out who had been stupid enough to challenge the Black Widow – and then he thinks that if Fury had just _sent him, he wouldn’t be getting a goddamn message._

It wasn’t even sent to him personally.

It was a fucking automated message – something sent to every agent.

_If Fury had just let him tag along…_

It was supposed to be an easy mission. _Fucking hell_.

She said it wasn’t dangerous, that she would just be doing desk-duty.

_…presumed dead…_

How did desk-duty end up kill–

No.

No, he refused to believe that she was dead.

It must have been a mistake, something someone in the tech team sent out to ruin his damn Friday night _because Natasha just couldn’t be_ dead.

Natasha, who pushed him out of the way when a sniper tried to take him out.

Natasha, who made his goddamn heart stutter in his chest when she smiled at him.

Natasha, who, fully entrusted her life to him and he couldn’t even repay her; didn’t even get the damn chance.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive back to SHIELD. He just knows that people are thankfully staying out of his goddamn way and that he nearly kicks down Fury’s door when it doesn’t open fast enough.

He throws his phone on the desk, seconds from snarling out words in his vocabulary that people didn’t think Captain America knew.

Fury quickly stands up from his chair, holding his hands up to try and stop the onslaught of pure anger that is emanating from Steve. “She’s not dead,” Steve immediately comes to a halt, like a car that slammed their breaks in the middle of the highway, and Fury quietly adds, “…but we have a situation.”

“She’s not dead?” He hears his voice, far away and a mixture of pain and anger ringing in his tone. He’s unsure, so he asks again and Fury nods.

He turns to his desk, pulling out what looks to be a remote and points it at the screen behind him. “She’s currently in The Medical Centre of Aurora, Colorado.” He clicks on the remote and a picture of Natasha fills the screen.

Her cheeks are lightly scraped, just pink bruises that seem to be nearly healed and she’s got her long blonde hair braided, resting on her shoulder. Steve doesn’t breathe for the next few seconds, just looking at the screen, making sure that it’s her, memorising every little detail of her that he can.

She’s in bed, wearing a white hospital gown and she’s smiling tiredly at the nurse that’s asking her some questions. She’s talking, her chest is moving as she breathes and aside from the scrape on her cheek and forehead, she’s _fine_.

Doesn’t even seem to be in pain.

Steve lets out a long, staggered breath and ignores the way Fury raises an eyebrow in his direction.

His tongue licks over his bottom lip and he clears his throat. “She’s not dead.”

Fury stares at him for a millisecond, a million questions flickering over his eyes, but he thankfully decides not to ask them or comment on he’s obvious relief. He knew they were work partners, but the way that Steve stormed into his office, well…

He expected it but seeing Steve Rogers in full pissed-off-mode, charging at you was enough to intimidate _him_. Not that he’d ever tell him _that_ …but it confirmed all of his suspicions on the unspoken feelings the soldier might feel for the spy.

Steve looks away from Fury, staring at the screen again – it seems to be a live feed and it takes every nerve in his body to stop himself from taking the next flight out to Aurora, Colorado.

 _Okay_ , Fury notes, _not feelings he “might” feel; feelings he_ feels _._

“If she’s not dead,” His brain finally starts working again, “why did you send that mass-text?”

Fury clears his throat, returning to business mode. “Wednesday night, Natasha was supposed to do a routine check-in. She missed it,” he pauses to let the information sink in.

“Natasha never misses a check-in,” he frowns, trying to connect the dots to a story he didn’t know.

Fury nodded his head. “I sent Maria to check-in on her a few hours later.” He doesn’t miss the way that Steve’s jaw ticks in annoyance. “Thursday at 0400, Maria finds her, unconscious in an alleyway outside a little pub, in Socorro, New Mexico.”

The video of Maria’s body cam comes up and Steve swallows the bile of anger that bubbles in the pit of his stomach.

Natasha is fully dressed and aside from the blood pooling around her nose, she doesn’t seem hurt. She’s unconscious, though and it frightens Maria enough that she mutters that she better not be dead. She checks her pulse and checks the area for any clues as to who hurt Natasha.

“Wasn’t her mission in Colorado?”

“Yes. Maria only found her because the tracking device in Natasha’s pistol suddenly started working again.” Realisation slowly begins to dawn on Steve and he’s not sure if he’s happy with the ideas percolating in his brain. “Socorro, New Mexico is nearly 8 hours from Aurora.”

Steve frowns. “Why would Natasha abandon protocol, though?”

Fury stops the playback and begins clicking through some symbols before playing a phone call audio.

_“Dammit, Fury! Why the hell do I have to hear from a rookie agent that Steve’s in trouble?! And why the hell are you not answering your damn phone?!”_

He shakes his head slowly. “I wasn’t…”

“I know,” Fury turns to him with a steely gaze. “She was set up.”

“By who?” He doesn’t really ask the question with the intent of getting an answer, he knows that if Fury knew _who_ set Natasha up, they wouldn’t be having this conversation, but talking, asking questions is helping him calm the turmoil that’s growing in his head.

Someone had enough information on Natasha to know that she would break protocol to help Steve.

They knew that she had a tracking device in her pistol and that absolutely terrified him.

“So, why isn’t Natasha back at SHIELD? Why send out the message?”

“Whoever set Natasha up works at SHIELD.” Steve figured that much. “They, uh,” his voice falters and a frown flickers on his face before it’s replaced by his stoic-Fury expression, “they used SHIELD technology on her.”

Steve inhales sharply. He can hear his heart thudding in his ears.

That couldn’t be good.

“What did they use?”

“It’s a prototype,” Fury pulls up classified pictures of a machine he and Tony are working on. Natasha’s and Maria’s name are on the file, too. “It’s meant to help us interrogate prisoners without actually using force.”

He shows a video of Natasha sitting on a chair with Tony sticking cables to the side of her head. Once he’s done, he glues the same white-sticky cables to Maria’s temples and their eyes begin moving back and forth behind their closed lids.

“It’s essentially a virtual reality interrogation room. The person on the other end controls the reality the prisoner sees; whatever they want to feel real, feels real to the person being interrogated.”

Steve understands the concept and doesn’t really stop to think about whether he agrees with it or not. He didn’t know about it until now, but he understands why he wasn’t included in it – he wasn’t the best with technology anyway.

“We were working on it. Natasha and Maria were the test subjects, trying to perfect it so that we could present it to the Council and implement it into our interrogation tactics. We were the only ones who had access to it, who knew it even existed.”

“It got into the wrong hands?” Steve asked.

Fury sighed. “Files say that the last person to have access to it was Maria, which can’t be true because she was away with me in Monaco for a conference.”

Steve stays silent for a few moments, trying to figure out the details that Fury keeps drawing out.

“Something that Tony hypothesised would happen with the VR prototype was that over-usage could force a person into a coma.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up, the anger from earlier fully returning.

“And you let Natasha try it out?!” He growled.

“She was a willing subject,” he replied smoothly, not at all bothered by the tone of his voice. “He also mentioned brain damage and possible death, which is another reason why we didn’t go public with it. In the wrong hands, well…” he trailed off, “it could drive someone mentally insane.”

His fists clenched at his sides, turning deathly pale and he gritted his teeth. “What happened to Natasha? You’re saying someone used this on her, right?”

Fury pauses for a moment, thinking of how best to word his thoughts. “Yes, someone used this on her. They…whatever they did, left her in a state of…confusion.”

He took a menacing step forward. “State of confusion?”

“It’s not amnesia. We don’t really know how to explain it. Maria thinks it’s a result of the trauma.”

Steve was seconds from grabbing Fury by his collar and throwing him out the fucking building, thirteen floors down. “What. Happened?”

“Natasha seems to have lost her memories and replaced them with her cover. She thinks that her name is Natalie Rousseau; she has no recollection of the Red Room or SHIELD or anything. She thinks she’s an accountant that works a 9-5 job...”

Steve doesn’t really hear the rest.

The world seems to sway around him, his ears are ringing and he needs to blink multiple times to try and keep his gaze focused on Fury.

“She doesn’t…she doesn’t remember?”

“No.” He shakes his head and turns the monitor off. “So, I need you to fly down to Colorado and keep an eye on her.” His head snaps up, his jaw ticks again. “Whoever hurt Natasha is still out there,” he explains, “it’s why I sent out the mass-text. I need them to believe that she’s dead so that I can catch this son of a bitch and figure out why they’re trying to fuck with one of my best agents.”

Steve nods but stays quiet.

“This has to stay under wraps. I didn’t say anything to you because I needed an authentic reaction out of you. Everyone that just saw you storm into the building knows what happened, they know who Natasha is to you and if you didn’t sell your part of the story because, no offence, but you’re a terrible liar, Rogers, it would have ruined everything.”

Steve ignored the comment. “So, what now?”

“I’m going to tell one of the SHIELD psychologists to send you away on a mental retreat. That you’re devastated over the loss of your partner and that you need a few weeks off. That should give us enough time to figure shit out.”

“Okay.” He swallows, nervous. “Won’t she recognise me though?”

“Keep growing the stubble,” Fury says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “colour your hair. I’ll send the documents you’ll need with Maria; she’ll fill you in on the rest.”

And just like that, all the anger and denial Steve felt at the supposed death of Natasha morphed into heart-wrenching worry.

Someone had ambushed Natasha.

Natasha didn’t remember her life.

She didn’t remember _him_.

He didn’t _fully_ lose her, but still…he _still_ lost her.


	3. ...of a part of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes his way to Aurora, Colorado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be up earlier, but school and work were swamping me. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this xx

Maria sat him down on a chair and applied the colour to his hair while briefing him on the mission.

She told him to be careful when he approached Natasha. That he couldn’t tell her who he was, that they weren’t sure if it was technically amnesia, but it would be safer not to trigger any trauma at the mention of who he was or what he did.

She told him not to let his feelings get the best of him, to make sure that he treated this as any other mission.

To which he obviously scoffed and responded that this wasn’t _just another mission._

Truly, it pissed him off – how nonchalant she was when there had been someone that attempted to take Natasha out, but he swallowed back any accusations he might have when he saw her expression crumble through the mirror.

Her gloved hands trembled as she cleaned up the trash and disposed of the leftover hair colour. Her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to stop the flow of tears that were threatening to spill past, and she clenched her jaw tightly.

Then he understood that maybe, this was Maria’s way of coping with what had happened. She had been the one to find Natasha on the brink of death, she had known Natasha longer than him – just because she was trying to keep composed didn’t mean that she wasn’t just as torn up about it.

That calmed him down a bit, made him feel better to know that he wasn’t the only one worried about what was happening. His priority was finding the person that hurt Natasha, but Steve knew that there were bigger plays at stake.

From what Fury and Maria implied, this person had infiltrated SHIELD, had gotten through the rigorous interviews and mental exams – and if that person could infiltrate SHIELD, who else could?

 _What_ were their intentions? Why did they take SHIELD technology?

Steve, though worried about the implications of it all, was more focused on the fact that this person had targeted Natasha. He hoped that _when_ this person was found, they’d let him ask a few questions.

He wasn’t out for _revenge_ per se, but he needed to know if this person worked for someone. Needed to know _why_ Natasha, needed to make sure that once this person was behind bars, Natasha would be okay.

After he washed the colour from his hair and stood in front of the mirror, combing his now darkened hair, Maria told him about where he would be staying and gave him brief details of what Natasha’s original mission had been.

They discussed the logistics, how often he had to check-in and when. Things he had to keep an eye on and she tried to give him pointers for the mission.

“Remember,” Maria crossed her arms over her chest, “the best way to lie on a mission-”

“-is to stay as close as possible to the truth,” he finished, muttering it with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

It’s not that he didn’t appreciate the tips, it’s that he had Natasha freaking Romanoff teach him how to be a spy. He knew that Maria was a formidable opponent, capable of many things, but Steve was a little biased.

Could be accused of worshipping the ground that Natasha walked on.

Maria raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side and eyed him curiously. “Romanoff?”

He nodded. “Nat’s a good teacher.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line, trying to hide the smile that wanted to grow on her lips. “She is.”

They were quiet for a few moments, just standing in his dimly lit apartment as they let their memories and worries of Natasha swarm their thoughts.

Steve tried his hardest not to be selfish, he tried to put the safety and wellbeing of everyone before his…but right then, standing in the middle of his kitchen all he could think about was that he _should_ be thinking Natasha had been in danger – and he _was_!

Yet, he was also thinking about how he’d have to see her and not be able to pull her into his arms.

How he wouldn’t be able to tell her that he finished the book she recommended, the one about the wrongly accused baseball player or how he had been tempted to watch an episode of _The Mentalist_ but stopped himself because he knew how much she enjoyed watching it with him.

How he’d want to question her on the mission, to see if he could help jog her memory or how he had been practising his dancing while he made dinner.

When he thought of the dancing, he immediately thought of the night of September 27th last year and how he had woken up to find her sleeping on his couch. How when he walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, she sat up clutching her chest like she was running out of breath and how breathily she whispered an apology.

How he pulled her into his arms, squeezed her tightly and she clung to him like if she let go of him, she might be consumed by darkness. He remembers how she had been trembling and how without thinking about it, he found himself humming under his breath, muttering an endless string of words that seemed to calm her down.

How in the dark living room, slightly lit by the moonlight peeking through the curtains, he came to realise that he’d rather have _that_ than confess what he felt and lose their friendship.

It was probably when she tilted her head back to look at him and began to mutter an apology. Steve didn’t really hear anything she said, he had been so focused on the way her green eyes seemed like pools of dark water with an endless depth that he lost himself in, to understand what she said.

He just remembered how badly he wanted to lean forward and kiss her, to caress her cheek and make her feel better. He had to force himself not to do anything stupid and insisted that they watch a light-hearted comedy to ease the tension she was feeling.

They ended up watching Ghostbusters and he engraved to memory the way her shoulders moved as she laughed and how she eventually leaned her face against his arm and fell asleep.

Steve stayed like that for the rest of the movie and only moved because she woke up at the sound of the credits to move over to lay on the couch.

Steve loved these memories, cherished them more than anything, but they were also hurting him because he knew that’s all he’d have of her; memories.

Maria shifted, feeling like they should part ways and cleared her throat. “Dr. Kurian signed off on the papers for your ‘mental retreat,’ so anyone that asks at SHIELD will be told you’ve gone for a few weeks to deal with Natasha’s death.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She turns to leave and then stops, hesitating. “We’re going to get this person.”

He pressed his lips in a firm line, giving her an affirming nod. “And, Nat,” he didn’t sound so convincing, but it was nice to hear it, to say it aloud, “we’re gonna get her back.”

Maria gave him a small smile, nodding once. “Make sure you take care of her.”

“With my life,” he swore.

~*~

Steve didn’t pack much, just a few shirts he could fit into his duffel bag and pants to get by. He figured that most of the time he’d be in his car, creepily staring at Natasha wherever she went and that they would rarely interact.

He took a few books to read in his downtime and his sketchbook in case he was inspired to draw. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but this was probably the second closest thing he’d get to being close to Natasha again.

Sure, everything he sketched out he had seen and could _see_ vividly if he just closed his eyes but getting them down on paper helped him make sure that he’d never forget. He knew he had an eidetic memory; he knew that the chances of him forgetting Natasha were _slim_ , but he didn’t want to risk it.

Besides, taking the time to attempt to capture her on paper made him…happy. He’d get frustrated at first, that he couldn’t capture her essence properly, her perfection, but nothing compared to her, so…his second-rate interpretations would have to do.

He tried to leave the apartment early in the morning, while it was still dark out to avoid running into anyone. He didn’t live near SHIELD or anyone from work, but he really didn’t want to be questioned by anyone as he went away.

“Steve?”

He stopped on his tracks, tensing and turned back to look at Kate. She was his neighbour, a pretty blonde nurse that Natasha kept trying to set him up with. She was pretty but…she was no Natasha.

He’d never tell _her_ that, just told her that he didn’t think he and Kate would really work out because he wasn’t looking to be with anyone. The part where he thought that he didn’t want to be with anyone but her was kept out, only mentioned in his mind.

“Hey,” he shot her a small smile, tightening his hold on his duffel bag.

She had her scrubs draped over her arms and a sleepy look to her eyes. “You’re up early.”

“Mm,” he nodded, hoping that she wouldn’t say anything else.

Fate didn’t seem to be on his side though.

Kate looked down at his bag and then up at his hair. The corners of her lips turned up slightly in a little smile and she tilted her head to the side, almost inquisitively. “New hair?”

“Ah,” he reached up, brushing his fingers through the dark hair and nodded, hoping that his blush wasn’t too noticeable. “Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck and hesitated to say anything else.

It’s not that he didn’t trust Kate – well, he didn’t really _know_ her, but her sweet smiles were always harmless and she always watered his plants, though he didn’t have the heart to tell her they were plastic.

Natasha had gotten them for him to “liven up his apartment.” She said they were fake, though, because sometimes they were gone from their homes for so long and it would be too depressing to come back to dead plants.

He didn’t really think much on the decoration of his apartment, everything he had was just practical – because as Natasha said, they were gone from their homes for months at a time. The things he held dear to him could be stuffed in his duffel bag and that’s all he needed.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat and decided to practise his lies on her, “I’m going away for a few weeks. Thought colouring my hair would make it easier to hide.”

Her brows furrowed and she leaned against the doorframe of her apartment entrance. “It looks great! I like the beard, too.” She paused for a few seconds. “Is everything okay?”

Everyone gave him hell for being a “terrible” liar but he had acted in a few movies before the ice, he could play a character if he really tried.

And not only was he trying, he knew how important this was.

Steve swallowed, looking down to avert his eyes from hers. “I, uh, I lost someone and, uh, we were really close, so…”

Her face changed from curious to surprised and full of pity. “Oh, Steve…”

He pressed his lips in a firm line. “Just need to get away, you know?”

“Yes, absolutely!” She smiled at him sadly. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

He nodded and didn’t say anything in return.

From her expression, he thought he did a pretty damn good job. He felt a little guilty about the lie, but in a way…he wasn’t lying. He _had_ lost Natasha and going away would help him deal with all the noise that was going on in his head.

Kate shifted and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. “Hey,” her tone was chirpier, trying to change the subject, “where’s your girlfriend? Have you guys been doing okay?”

Steve frowned, completely caught off guard. “My girlfriend?”

“Yeah!” She nodded and waved her hand around her head, motioning toward her hair. “The redhead?” She frowned, pausing, “Or was she a blonde? I think last time I saw her she was a blonde, but I can’t be too sure.”

She must’ve been talking about Natasha and he’d have to give her praise for her keen eyesight. He hadn’t realised that Natasha was a blonde until she had taken her hoodie off.

Instead of telling her that they weren’t dating, he decided to stay in character.

His eyes slightly watered and he crinkled his nose, trying to keep the tears at bay. “She…uh, she’s the one that passed away.”

Kate widened her eyes, bringing her free hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh. Wow,” she breathed in deeply, “Steve, wow, I’m so sorry. I…”

“Thank you.” He ran his fingers through his hair and held up his duffel bag, “I hope I don’t come off as rude, but I really should get going.”

“Yeah, of course! I hope you feel better.” She hesitated, grabbing the doorknob and turned back to him. “Steve?” He looked up at her. “For what it’s worth,” she shot him a bittersweet smile, “I’m sure she cared about you just as much.”

He looked down at his hands, a mannerism he knew would come off as bashful and gave her a half-smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you around, okay?”

Kate nodded. “I’ll be sure to watch after your plants.”

He wanted to tell her that they were fake, but the sweet smile on her face stopped him. He really didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Thank you.”

Before she could say anything else, he turned and walked down the stairs.

~*~

Steve thought it would be best not to take his Harley to Colorado. He had been tempted, _really_ tempted, but driving for nearly two days on a Harley would take too long and it would be uncomfortable.

The flight over had been relatively short and he had felt a little weird flying with other people since he was so used to the quinjet, but a part of him appreciated the lulling sound of people murmuring around him.

It was also the first time he wasn’t recognised in public and he’d have to admit that it felt great having that bit of anonymity.

Natasha had been staying at an apartment complex about an hour from the airport and per Maria’s instructions, the apartment was already furnished and ready for move-in for Steven Grant.

When he had given Maria the name she gave him a dubious look but entered the information into the system and gave him all the IDs he would need for the next few weeks. SHIELD would be paying for all of his living expenses under the pretence of a mental health retreat.

Dr. Kurian, his SHIELD-appointed therapist recommended a retreat where he could isolate, preferably somewhere close to nature where he could “find some closure and peace.”

As he walked up to the apartment complex, he smiled at himself because they had done a great job at choosing a spot that fit the criteria. Sure, everything around him had been modernised, but there were plenty of trees surrounding them and a few mountains in the background – about a 30-minute drive from the apartment building.

Maria chose an Audi for him to drive and it had a few extra features that he didn’t fully explore, but he admitted that the car was sleek and fast. The seats were comfortable and in the hour it took for him to arrive at his destination, he nearly fell asleep at the wheel.

He’d have to thank her for it.

When he pulled into the parking lot, he realised that the choice in car hadn’t been completely for comfort, but to also fit the part of someone that would live in the luxurious apartments. They weren’t in Tony Stark’s budget, but the residents were definitely well off.

The receptionist at the front desk asked him to sign a few papers, thanked his secretary for getting all of his paperwork done promptly and profusely thanked him for his generous donation – to what, he had no idea, but he figured that it had all been Maria’s doing.

She spent a few minutes welcoming him to the building, showing him a brochure of the facilities they had and setting up his key card to access said facilities. She had offered to give him a personal tour, but he declined, using the length of his flight as an excuse to opt-out of it.

It had been an excuse, but he really was tired. All the emotions he had felt within the past 48 hours had been… _exhausting_. He had gone from thinking that Natasha was dead, to find out that she wasn’t, but that she lost her memories and that someone had placed a target on her.

And the entire time, he had been on autopilot, listening to orders and pushing his emotions away because he didn’t have time to deal with them. Making sure that Natasha was okay was more important than anything he had to unravel in his mind.

“Thank you for your help, Dawn,” he smiled at her tiredly.

She blushed lightly and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Grant. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call down here. We’re open 24/7.”

He nodded, repeating his thanks and leaned down to grab his duffel bag. He held onto his car keys tightly, holding the key card in his other hand and made his way to the elevator.

All he wanted to do then was take a hot shower and then check in with Maria and Fury. He wanted to see Natasha, to see with his own eyes that she was okay and _alive_ , but he might have to wait for the next day.

According to the schedule, Maria kept of Natasha, she worked from 8 am to 5 pm and came straight home. He just hoped that Natalia Rousseau was the same.

It was dinner time, anyway, she was probably eating in her apartment.

Steve let out a soft sigh as he waited for the elevator doors to open and then leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back and tried to relax his shoulders.

The doors dinged before they closed and he snapped his eyes open when he felt someone rushing into the elevator next to him.

He didn’t really expect to see her so soon, but he would be lying if he said that it didn’t fill his heart with complete unadulterated happiness.

“Hi,” she said a little breathless and pushed back a few strands of blonde hair that were pulled out of her ponytail. “Sorry, the other elevator isn’t working and I really didn’t feel like walking up the stairs with these.”

She placed the grocery paper bags on the floor next to her and smoothed her hands over her pencil skirt.

Apart from the blonde hair and not recognising him, it was Natasha. She looked like she had just gotten out of work. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a white blouse that she kept tucked in. The neckline was a little low, enough that he could see the mole on her collarbone that had been the centrepieces on many of his sketches, but it was modest enough for work attire.

She kept her hair up in a loose ponytail, with a few strands framing her face and even though her shirt was a little crumpled, she looked like she had just stepped out of a modelling magazine.

His fingers flexed at his sides, tightening around the strap of his duffel bag. He wanted to hug her, wanted to bury his face in the crook of her neck and thank her for being alive.

But he stopped himself from doing anything stupid, trying to compose himself in the confines of the four small walls of the elevator.

“You going to four, too?” She was staring up at him expectantly, brushing her thumb over her phone, though the screen was off.

When he realised that she was talking to him – they were the only two people in the elevator – he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah.”

Natasha – no, _Natalie_ nodded and turned back to look at her phone for a second. She bit her bottom lip and then turned to him. “Are you new here?”

Steve swallowed, feeling his hands go clammy with nerves. God, it was her. Her freaking green eyes, but they didn’t look at him with recognition. This was definitely harder than he thought it would be.

He wasn’t prepared for _this_.

To be so close to her, to have her in arms reach and still…not quite have her.

“Yeah,” he tried to clear his throat again, his voice sounded too rough, too overcome with emotion. “Just moved in today.”

Natalie turned to him with a bright grin, nearly knocking him off his feet. These smiles were far and few in between, they were mostly reserved for him so he should have been used to seeing them, but there was something different about it.

Maybe it was that her green eyes weren’t twinkling in mischief, they were just kind. It was like all traces of Natasha were gone.

“I moved in a few weeks ago.” She was quiet for a second, looking up at the screen signalling which floor they were in. “It’s a nice place,” she added, “I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Thank you.”

A few more seconds went by in silence before the doors slowly opened. He waited until she stepped out first, mostly because he didn’t think his brain was fully operation quite yet and because he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself.

Maria said she was living in apartment D2 and that he would be at the end of the hall, in apartment D6. There was a bit of distance between them, but he had a clear view of her door.

Natalie leaned down to grab her bags and turned to him with a smile. “I’m Natalie, by the way.” She held one hand out for him to shake.

He quickly wiped it down his pant leg before shaking it. “Steven.”

Now, this could all have been a figment of his imagination, but he swore that a flicker of recognition passed through her eyes.

Her smile stayed on her face, though, sweet and gentle. “Nice to meet you, Steven.”

They walked out of the elevator and she stopped in her tracks, pursing her lips as she turned to him.

“Okay, I hope this doesn’t come off as crazy, but…” she trailed off, biting on her bottom lip a little nervous, “have we met before?”

Steve swore his heart stopped beating for longer than what was normal. He could _hear_ the blood rushing through his body, feel his face paling as she looked at him with scrutinising eyes.

Luckily he found his voice before she thought he was incapable of holding a conversation. “Uh…I don’t…I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” she pursed her lips again, frowning a little, but then smiled at him again. “Sorry, I know it’s crazy. I just…I don’t know, your eyes…” she hesitated and then shook her head, waving her hand around as if it would wave away her comments. “Ignore me, I’m usually not this crazy. I just had a long week.”

Steve shook his head, licking his bottom lip. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Maybe it’s a side effect of the car accident,” she gave him a little mischievous grin – and at that moment she looked so much like Natasha that he wanted to throw all caution to the wind and just _hug_ her. “Doc said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty hard,” she pointed to a little scar she had on her forehead, “maybe everything inside hasn’t fully gone back to normal.”

He found his lips pulling up in a smile at how freaking adorable she just seemed. That and he was just happy to see her, to hear her voice – because even though she didn’t _act_ like Natasha…well, it was something.

“Anyway,” she breathed in deeply and held up her bags, “I’m going to go make dinner. I’m starving. See you around?”

“Yeah.” He really wished his voice didn’t sound so rough, so damn throaty and broken.

Natalie began walking away, down the hall to her apartment and then stopped, glancing over her shoulder with a sly smirk that was all Natasha. “It was nice meeting you, Steven.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” He smiled at her, honest and slightly captivated by her.

She wasn’t really Natasha, but from their very brief interaction, he could tell that there were still parts of Natasha left – enough that he hoped would help to jog her memory.


End file.
